An Orderly finishes looping thread through flesh.
He goes about his business with a sigh and ties a futile knot.
Once he’s tied the catgut sutures and wrapped the paper crepe bandages, the Orderly moves onto the next man because the next man had a chance to keep breathing.
More orderlies take the bedding from the cot because there are men with a chance to keep warm and alive. A Nurse in a grey uniform that might have once been white almost leaves the sheet underneath his limp heaving body because a dead man should at least have a burial shroud. But she takes it anyway.
His face takes on t
If I am a loaded gun,
You should just fire and run
but instead the guns in your mouth
and I’m praying things don’t go south
Because even at eighteen,
There is nothing.
If we were sane, we’d keep our distance
But instead we keep up this deathly dance
Blood was shed for these rights
But I’m keeping you in my rifle’s sites
Because even at eighteen
You don’t owe me anything.
I can’t bring you back from the dark
And blood soaked wood can’t hold a spark
So I tackle you to the earth
Because one of us has to remember your worth
Because even at eighteen,
I can’t do anything.
You say you ar
Alfred Jones is drunk.
Its 1945 and he's half done with the final defeat of his enemies. Roosevelt and 400,000 of his soldiers are dead, and more will be dead before morning. That guilt and responsibility he holds for every corpse he's behind him, dead in his name,as he forced his way through Africa, Europe and every goddamned isle in the pacific twists and burns in the writhing pit of snakes that his belly has turned into.
Now he's sprawled there on a hilltop in Bavaria almost finished with his fifth and final bottle of whiskey with the other four tossed around him like they too, are the bodies he's responsible for.
If he looks down, he c
With lowered eyes, but with head held high
A queen looks down at earth from her tower in the sky
She sees the youth she once loved and touch age
She sees her own past in both the poorhouse and the gilded cage
Born into a decayed city, raised in what was left of the wood
She slowly rose to power, cutting all the ties she could
Behind her was a proud father and a broken mother
Behind her was a vain sister and an innocent brother
But no matter how she loved them, they lay with the other remnants of before
When the earth was all she needed but not all she wanted when there was so much more
So she cut them off, left them below
Part Seven: The Finalizing Find
I needed more mead than blood in my veins
To tell of the ice, and then my death
My mother face stood stony, tear tracks making stains
At the Fireheart's name, all of them held their breath
They gazed at me, fully alive and healthy
And looked into my solemn eyes
And believed I had betrothed myself to a Valkyrie
There could be no lies
I gave them the sacks that had burdened my steed
And the old bounty descended once again
With that, I left for home, without another need
But for a new life with my Valkyrie to begin
But just before I could saddle up and take my leave
My eldest sister presented my inhe
Across Europe's fields and valleys, forests of crosses are now found
But still the moans of hate and horror still sound
The bayonet bearing angels sigh
In exasperation at those who still go to die
Their wives mothers and daughters still grieve
From heaven, and its a grief that God himself can't relieve
Can you imagine a squalid colorless world of death?
Populated with mean who care for nothing but live and breath?
Come back with me as they fix bayonets and prepare to go over the top
While a whole generations cries "Make it stop!"
They wince at the shells and pray "Oh Lord deliver us... oh lord.."
While the reserves are far away, ju
History is cool. I could try to explain why, but if you aren't already interested, there's a better way to get on board: read and/or write historical fiction. Only...I can't say anything there, I don't know anything about historical fiction!
Luckily, dA has a strong cadre of historical fiction writers. I (metaphorically) sat down with one of the outstanding, doughboycafe (https://www.deviantart.com/doughboycafe):
What is "historical fiction"?
I think that it is, quite simply, fiction set somewhere in history. Though it usually draws on one or more actual events, we get to make up the whos and the whys and the hows.
That isn't to say it isn't accurate, however. Historical fiction,
Because so many people asked for it...
:bulletgreen: :bulletgreen: The War Story Contest will be extended to DECEMBER 24. That's Christmas Eve, people! Get your entries in!:bulletgreen: :bulletgreen:
Check the link for details.
Please remember this part: In the artists' comments please state why you think writing war fiction is beneficial, or why you personally have an interest in it.
:bulletblack:Things You May Find Helpful:bulletblack:
- Grammar and Your Story
- A Guide to Military Fiction
- OokamiKasumi's Writing Tips
After this, there will be no more extensions! Good luck!
Alright. As of this Friday, I will be off work and school until the New Year. My Christmas Shopping is done, the cookies are made and the 20 foot tree is in the stand, watered and decorated. That leaves a lot of time for writing!
Original Works: I've got lots planned and ready to be typed and posted. I will take requests if anyone would like anything.
Fanfiction: I've got some SuFin, PruHun, Brotherly Prussia and Germany, and maybe some FRUK planned, but I want to know what people want to see. If you have an idea, Christmas-y or not, I would love to see it. I am open to just about anything.
Merry Christmas/Happy Hanukkah/Happy whatever you
Some new, darker stuff coming here. I've been writting in a darker, more humorous fashion lately, and some of it will be somewhat grapic. To my viewers and watchers, please use discretion when reading and commenting on my entries. I work extremely hard on everything I post, and it will all have plenty of warning, but please do not flame because the boldest, most graphic things will be coming in soon and were requested by contest winners and again, will have plenty of warnings.